


By-The-Sea II: Perfect Evening

by BradyGirl_12



Series: By-The-Sea [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics), Superman (Comics), Superman/Batman (Comics), World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: Dinner, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Food, Lobster, M/M, Male Slash, Romance, Series, Sex, Sexual Content, Slash, Slice of Life, World's Finest, seafood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 18:12:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5466056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BradyGirl_12/pseuds/BradyGirl_12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The perfect day turns into a perfect evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Seafood Is Supposed To Be An Aphrodisiac, Right?"

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Sap alert! :)  
> Spoilers: None  
> Original LJ Dates Of Completion: July 13, 20, 2008  
> Original LJ Dates Of Posting: July 25, 26, 2008  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.  
> Original LJ Word Count: 1233 + 1251 (Total: 2454)  
> Feedback welcome and appreciated.  
> Author’s Notes: Written for my [2008 DCU Fic/Art Endless Summer Challenge](http://bradygirl-12.livejournal.com/227152.html).  
> All chapters can be found here.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Bruce enjoy fresh seafood on the wharf.

Lobster boats bobbed in the water, the clang of buoys a rhythmic chiming to the putt-putt of motors and the hiss of steam from the cooking shack. One of the boats docked at the far end of the wharf, the crew unloading dripping traps filled with lobsters.

Workers dumped clams into boiling pots, and the smell of frying haddock and cod mingled with French fries and onion rings. The sizzle of hot dogs and hamburgers was sharp, an alternative for non-fish fanciers.

Clark and Bruce stepped onto the wharf, both dressed in jeans and casual shirts, Bruce in dark-blue, Clark in light-blue. They bore wore sneakers, Clark’s more scuffed, and Bruce had put on sunglasses against the glare of the late afternoon sun.

Clark glowed after a day of sun and sea, Bruce enjoying the view. Clark had run a comb through his hair and it was soft and wavy, tantalizingly close to his Superman curl but not quite.

There was a good crowd here at the _Lobstermen’s Co-op._ A line stretched out from the main shack, people busy choosing their lobsters.

One of the pots outside the shack held steaming ears of corn. Bruce smiled at Clark’s look of interest.

“Going to see if New England corn can compare to the Kansas variety?”

“Oh, I’m sure the Kansas brand is superior, just as I’m sure the fish here is waaay superior to Kansas fish.”

Bruce laughed. “Point taken. I think I’ll have some corn with my lobster and clams.”

They entered the shack, Bruce picking out a large three-pound lobster. “You want one smaller, Clark?” 

“I want that one.”

Bruce’s eyes widened. “Four pounds. Well, never let it be said you have a bird’s appetite.” 

“From what I’ve seen, neither does Dick.”

Bruce smirked. He paid for the dinners, an expensive price tag as lobster wasn’t cheap, and they had selected pretty hefty specimens. No matter. What was the good of money if you didn’t use it to make people happy, especially loved ones?

Clark purchased two frosty cans of Coke from the vending machine, and they walked the length of the wharf, choosing a weathered gray picnic table at the end.

Clark rested his elbows on the railing, gazing down at the play of light on the water. Bruce joined him, watching the activity in the harbor as they drank their sodas.

“Enjoying yourself?” Bruce asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“Very much.”

“There’s excellent lobster all up-and-down the coast. We’ll head down to Boothbay in a few days. On the way we can stop at Lincolnville for the best clams in Maine.”

Clark laughed. “I bow to your Down East expertise.”

Bruce grinned. “If I need a guide through the Kansas cornfields, I’ll defer to you.”

Clark gave an exaggerated sigh. “There you go with your East Cost snobbery again.”

“Can I help it if you’re plaid flannel and I’m _Abercrombie & Fitch?”_

“Oh, boy. Somebody’s silver spoon is showing.”

Bruce chuckled as he watched a seagull land on a buoy, balancing perfectly as the marker bobbed in the water.

“And what’s wrong with my silver spoon?”

“Nothing, but you have to use a lobster pick here.”

Bruce smirked, very relaxed as he followed the progress of a yacht heading out to sea for a sunset cruise.

Years ago he would have fought any ‘need’ for a vacation, losing that sense of relaxation that Dick had taught him while his young partner had still been a child.

Clark had helped bring it all back to him, time off treasured by the Kryptonian, who with his super-senses got so little of it. 

Bruce cherished just standing here next to Clark, not saying a word as they watched the harbor activity. Unless aliens decided to invade Earth in the next week, the World’s Finest was on vacation.

_“Order 61, the first part of your order is ready.”_

The tinny loudspeaker voice carried over the hubbub of the other diners.

Clark put his Coke on the table. “I’ll get it.”

Bruce sat at the table, enjoying the view as Clark walked down the wharf. It never ceased to amaze him that this man dressed in jeans and off-the-rack shirt, hair slightly shaggy and eyes framed by glasses, projecting an air of shyness and occasional clumsiness, was the most powerful being on the planet.

And he was definitely one of the Top Ten in the universe, too.

That thought boggled him. The power that Clark wielded could have made him a god if he’d chosen to use it as conqueror rather than savior, yet he delighted in simple pleasures like this, eating lobster and clams on a wharf on the Maine coast.

Bruce had spent enough time in Smallville to understand part of the reason: Jonathan and Martha Kent. They had given an alien child from the stars love and protection, and had nurtured that sense of responsibility that Clark’s good heart had embraced.

_How did I get so lucky, getting this man in my life?_

Clark put the tray on the picnic table with a flourish, and he and Bruce settled in to eating the freshly-steamed clams. Except for noises of, “Mmm, good,” and “Delicious,” they concentrated on dipping clams into the sweet butter after washing off the sand, savoring each bite.

When the second part of their order was called, Clark volunteered to get it again and Bruce cleared off what they’d already eaten, more clams waiting in the paper cartons to be consumed.

Bruce watched with amusement as Clark walked back between the rows of tables, carrying the tray with their food, the four-pound lobster causing a stir, dwarfing Bruce’s three-pounder. 

Clark seemed unaware of the attention, smiling at Bruce as he headed for their table.

“Looks like you’ve got a whole clambake.”

Clark chuckled as he set the tray down with lobsters, corn-on-the-cob, onion rings, coleslaw, and two new cans of Coke.

They arranged their food, Bruce picking up a nutcracker and placing it around an enormous claw. The crack was satisfyingly loud, a huge piece of meat easily pulled out and dipped into savory butter.

“Mmm.” Bruce allowed his taste buds to revel in the sweet flavor.

Clark glanced around, saw that he was no longer the center of attention, and took the opportunity to casually crack the bigger claw with his hand instead of the nutcracker.

“Show-off.”

Clark grinned as he dipped the meat into the cup of butter.

“Oh, Bruce, this is _incredible!”_

Bruce opened a clam, cleansed it in a cup of water and then dipped it in the butter.

“Definitely not frozen fish sticks.” He winked. “Seafood is supposed to be an aphrodisiac, right?”

Clark laughed and ate more lobster.

Each dish was to be savored: the sweetness of the lobster, the strong flavor of the clams, the fried tartness of the onion rings and sharp bite of the coleslaw, and finally, the golden taste of sun-ripened corn, all washed down by Classic Coke.

A light breeze blew across the wharf, ruffling Clark’s hair. He was enjoying every bite, smiling at Bruce.

“I love you,” Clark said softly, the piercing cry of a seagull echoing over the water.

Bruce smiled. “I know.” He ate a piece of lobster. “I love you, too.”

Clark’s smile matched the sun on this bright day, Bruce very happy.


	2. "I Guess It's True What They Say About Seafood"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time on the wharf was well-spent. ;)

Clark and Bruce walked leisurely along the streets of the town, dusk beginning to settle as the day waned.

Bar Harbor, Maine was still a popular summer vacation spot, a legacy of the height of its popularity in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries as the wealthy from Boston and New York had traveled up the coast by train to summer in ‘cottages’ away from the stifling heat of the cities.

Bruce glanced up at the mountains surrounding the town. A large, baronial house was nestled high up the nearest mountainside.

“Wayne Cottage,” Clark smirked.

Bruce smiled. “AKA Harborside. The Breakers was already taken.”

Clark laughed. “A cottage with two dozen rooms?”

“Give-or-take.” Bruce brushed a lock of hair from his eyes. “The Wayne legacy continues. After I donated it to the town, they made good use of it as a women’s shelter and free clinic. Besides, I still have the oceanfront cottage in Hyannisport. That’s closer to Gotham.” Bruce smiled at his companion. “We’ll get there. It’s located right on the bay and still private enough.”

Clark squeezed Bruce’s hand. “I like being on vacation with you, especially by the sea.”

“The sea’s in my blood, just like endless waves of grain are in yours.”

“Is that a farmboy crack?”

Bruce smirked. “Maybe a little.”

Clark shook his head but smiled.

The town was quiet, a lull before the band concert starting later that evening. Clark and Bruce walked to the beach, taking off their shoes to walk in the water. Bruce slipped his hand into Clark’s, and the Kryptonian gave him a look of pure love.

Bruce needed this peace, this quiet, hell, what could be considered sappiness. His mind needed rest from constant pressure and calculating and responsibility. As a child, Dick had taught him the need for pure play, and now Clark had re-taught him that lesson. He no longer fought vacations quite so hard, and now even schemed to get them time together that wasn’t sandwiched in between civilian work and patrol. He considered it a worthy challenge.

The sun began to set, streaks of rose, orange and gold ribboning through indigo sky. The waves soothed with their eternal sound, and Bruce’s hand tightened.

Clark looked at him, blue shining through plastic lenses, the most beautiful sight in the world. His lover cupped his face and gently kissed him.

They left the beach and headed back to their cottage.

This was truly a cottage, small but comfortable. The pine paneling matched the yellow paint, giving the kitchen a sunny atmosphere that Clark loved. Bruce harrumphed but was secretly pleased. He loved to surround Clark with cheerful settings. He looked so natural in them!

The living room offered a magnificent view of the sea. Bruce and Clark stood by the window, silent but comfortable.

Bruce turned and kissed Clark’s cheek, the reporter smiling. They entered into a proper kiss, then headed upstairs to the bedroom.

Disrobing was slow but sexy, interspersed with gentle kisses. Bruce pushed Clark onto the bed, yanking off his lover’s pants as he climbed up on the bed.

“Mmm, Bruce,” Clark said between kisses. “You’re so beautiful.”

Bruce cupped Clark’s face, tenderly regarding his lover’s beauty. “I could say the same, Clark.”

The kiss was gentle, then grew more passionate, Bruce lowering his naked body on top of Clark, whose arms slid around his back.

Each man kissed and stroked warm skin, Bruce kissing Clark’s shoulder.

Bruce wanted this slow and romantic. He had once declared that he ‘didn’t do romantic’, but that had changed when he had fallen in love with Clark Kent.

Clark did romantic. He did romantic very well.

And he expected his lover to do it as well.

Oh, Clark would never come out and say it, or show disappointment at a lack of romance, but it would be there.

And Bruce had discovered that he wanted to do romance: hearts and flowers and candlelight dinners.

He _wanted_ to glory in the beauty of the body laid out for him, the sound of the ocean singing in his veins. Moonlight shimmered on the water, framed in the bedroom’s large window, and Bruce kissed Clark on the lips.

Clark stroked Bruce’s face, eyes shining with love. Bruce slowly began moving his hips, cocks rubbing together as he kissed Clark’s brow.

Nerve endings tingling with pleasure, Bruce continued a slow, steady rhythm, Clark moaning softly beneath him. Bruce kissed his lover’s chest, flicking his tongue over both nipples, blowing gently.

Clark shivered. “Bruce…”

Bruce smiled. His mouth closed around a nipple, Clark gasping as he cupped his lover’s head. Bruce responded by increasing his attentions, transferring his lips to the other nipple.

“Rao, _Bruce…!”_

Bruce kissed all the way down to Clark’s groin, taking his time as he savored sweet flesh. Clark’s moans were music to his ears, and he blew gently on his lover’s bobbing cock.

Clark squirmed. “Please…” he breathed, face contorted in exquisite agony as his hips thrust up, seeking Bruce, who rested his hand on the Kryptonian’s stomach.

“Aren’t you eager?” 

“Stop teasing!” Clark pouted.

There were few things more beautiful than Clark Kent in full pout mode, and Bruce enjoyed the show.

“You’re beautiful,” Bruce murmured.

“Mmm…” 

Bruce laughed at Clark’s smug agreement. He kissed Clark’s thighs, brushing his cheek against his partner’s cock.

“Bruce, if you don’t…!”

Bruce smirked, then began licking the underside of the impressive column of flesh, Clark squirming again. Bruce’s tongue swirled around the head, grateful not for the first time that Kryptonian physiology was so close to Terran.

His mouth took in Clark’s cock, his eyes gleaming as he pleasured his Beloved.

“Bruce…I _need…”_

Bruce brought Clark to the brink…

Clark’s hips thrust up, orgasm rippling through him as he gasped, “Bruce, I’m coming!”

Bruce’s hands cupped his lover’s buttocks, drinking in Clark’s seed. When he was finished, Bruce released him, gently lowering him back to the bed.

Clark lolled bonelessly until he felt a rather insistent poking in his thigh. Smiling, he slid his hand down and curled it around Bruce’s cock, rubbing his thumb up and down the hard flesh.

“Seems you’re ready,” he said with a lazy grin.

Bruce growled and pounced, Clark laughing.

“C’mon, baby, do me!” the Kryptonian demanded.

Bruce grabbed the jar off the nightstand and prepared himself and Clark. His lover really didn’t need it but Bruce liked to give him the courtesy of preparation.

Easing into Clark’s welcoming heat sent thrills of pleasure along Bruce’s nerves.

_So beautiful…so beautiful…_

Moonlight silvered Clark’s perfect body, Bruce setting a slow, languorous pace. He wanted to savor every moment, every touch, every sight, ever sound…every taste.

Clark’s hands slid up and down his thighs, eyes starlit as he smiled at Bruce.

Bruce’s orgasm washed over him like the moonlit waves, his back arching as Clark’s gasps of pleasure matched his grin.

Deliciously sated, Bruce slid out of Clark, the faint sounds of the band concert carrying over the clear night air.

“Mmm, that was great,” Clark murmured. His eyes twinkled as he said, “I guess it’s true what they say about seafood.” Bruce slapped his shoulder as he laughed.

He kissed Bruce and put his arms around him as his companion curled up around him, resting his head on his Beloved’s broad chest. Clark kissed the top of his head and settled under the covers, the eternal crash of the waves lulling both lovers to sleep.


End file.
